Handling It
by ALilyPea
Summary: An NCIS/CSI Crossover. Timothy needs to get to Vegas to be with his lover, he just doesn't know how to handle anything anymore. SLASH.


Title: Handling It

Author: Ashley

Fandom: NCIS/CSI Crossover

Prompt: "Handling it"

Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or CSI. I have never claimed to own either of them either.

Summary: Timothy McGee doesn't know how he handles his job sometimes, but then he gets to visit his lover and everything seems okay again.

Post-"Judgment Day" (5x9) and Post-"For Gedda" (8x17).

Author's Note: I feel it necessary to say that I don't normally write this badly.

Rating: R.

* * *

Timothy McGee couldn't deny at times his job was hard to handle. It had been from the beginning when he'd actually become a special agent and had to deal with Kate and Tony mocking him every moment he was in the office. He couldn't really say much about it now though because Kate was gone, actually Tony was gone too just not in the permanent sense. He might be able to see Tony should he ever get back from the USS Reagan.

At least he might still be able to help Gibbs every so often, if he was lucky. All he knew was that he needed a break from all of this; he needed be in Vegas to be with his lover. He needed to figure out if he even wanted to stay where he was or if he wanted to end up doing something else with his life.

Did he really want to end up going back to cybercrimes and be away from his friends? The people he had come to know as his family. The very thought of it made him want to break apart inside and caused him to drag his feet even more as he made his way out of the airport terminal looking down at the ground. His shoulders were slumped and he sighed softly as he walked along.

He could only hope that his lover would have been able to make it there in time to meet him. He worked the graveyard shift at the Crime Lab and often worked doubles, even triples to help the CSIs solve a crime even though a good portion of the time he could get his work done quickly and efficiently.

"You ready to head on home sugar?" Bobby spoke softly into his ear, smiling softly and sadly when Timothy jumped slightly before whirling around to look at him. He'd been nervous and skittish since the death of Director Sheppard and he hadn't even been there when it happened. It was something Bobby could understand especially since bad things seemed to be centering on those who worked in the crime lab lately.

Timothy smiled wearily, stroking his thumb slowly down Bobby's cheek before he nodded, yawning. "I would love nothing more than to head on home." _And stay there with you_ He didn't say it out loud. Although Bobby called it McGee's home it wasn't, or at least not to anyone else. As far as anyone else knew, even his friends on the former team, his home was in Washington. A cold lifeless apartment looked far too industrial to truly be his.

Home to him was where Bobby was, where his friends were but now he was being split in so many different directions he wasn't sure what to do.

"You're thinking too much right now Tim," Bobby admonished, his accent colouring his words slightly. It was comforting, soothing. No one on the team besides Ziva had an accent, they all had harsh voices due to their Northern living…But that wouldn't matter anymore.

"Stop thinking, that's no way to spend a vacation," Bobby felt the need to chastise again, almost desperate to get rid of the depressed, darkened look in his lover's eyes. "Please," He softened his voice again.

Timothy looked up into Bobby's eyes; they were warm and sad also. Suddenly he felt stupid, infinitely insensitive, and horrible for not even realizing it. While he had lost a team, they could be found again, and if he was going to admit that, he might as well admit Director Sheppard hadn't truly been anything more than a leader who was mostly faceless to him. Bobby had lost someone violently as well, someone who they both considered a friend and at times lover.

"I'm sorry," He slipped his arm around Bobby casually. To anyone else it would seem like a friendly touch between two friends who hadn't seen each other in a while but to them it meant the whole world, "How are you handling everything?"

Bobby shrugged his shoulders not wanting to talk about it. It was hard, everyone knew that it had been someone on the inside but no one knew who. People were getting snappy and harsh with each other, guilty until proven innocent. Even the CSIs…

Grissom was looking at everyone as if they might pull out a gun and shoot him at any moment, the last of what had been an almost child-like enthusiasm for his job. That in itself was almost as heart breaking as Warrick's death. CSI had experienced sad situations in the past, but they had always made it through with Grissom's leadership and now it seemed like the older man felt he had failed as a leader.

Nick hadn't slept in weeks it seemed, spending hours upon hours in the lab pouring over evidence which mean Bobby had to be there too because he was the ballistics expert. He was only lucky no one believed him capable or murder because otherwise he would've spent time with Brass in one of the interrogation rooms just like everyone else.

Greg jumped any time anyone came near him; he and Nick broke up because he didn't know how to take care of someone who wasn't willing to take care of himself. Warrick would've been pissed; he'd been the strongest advocate for their relationship in the first place. He'd been the one who brought them out of the closet even though they hadn't wanted to go, it had surprised no one. But with Warrick at their backs, no one had said a word.

And Catherine, Catherine seemed to take it the worst. She had loved Warrick, more than anything but they had never made it together. Now she seemed like a shell of her normal self, a formerly vivacious woman who had lost everything but her child.

"Bobby, Bobby are you okay?" Timothy's voice seemed to come from far away like he was in a tunnel. "Bobby, talk to me please," He sounded stressed and worried.

Bobby shook his head, bringing himself out of it and managed a weak smile. "I'm okay, I'm handling it okay. How about you?" He opened the door to his car for Timothy, tossing the suitcase in the back.

Timothy settled in the seat, "I don't know. Sometimes I think I'm doing okay," _Without the team with Director Vance in power, without Warrick to call and tease about Bobby beating him in another round of Grand Theft Auto then being taunted by that hoarse velvet voice into touching himself till he was moaning in submission. _"I'm sorry I couldn't make it back for the funeral."

"They saw the news, they know what happened," Bobby responded, reaching across the console once he'd pulled out of the parking lot and squeezing his hand.

Shaking his head Timothy sighed, "No, they don't."

Bobby stayed silent for the entire ride home, only moving when he needed to so as to not let go of Timothy's hand. It was warm in his, solid. It let him know that the other man was alive. When he'd first heard of a member of NCIS had been killed it was like his heart had jumped into his throat, not his Timothy. When he'd heard about the team breaking up he couldn't deny that he'd felt some semblance or relief as it meant that Timothy was out of the field now, although it broke his heart to hear the sadness in his lover's voice.

Pulling into the driveway twenty minutes later Bobby eased the car to a stop in the garage and squeezed Timothy's hand before letting go. It was hard to do but they couldn't spend the evening in the garage, "Let's go inside. I'll grab your suitcase."

"I have clothes here, just leave it for later," Timothy climbed out and followed behind Bobby into the house. He felt numbed; it was something he wasn't used to especially around Bobby. Around Bobby, everything seemed so sharp, almost harsh in its intensity. He didn't know if he could handle that now but he wanted to see if he was strong enough all the same.

Letting out an almost choked noise Timothy reached for Bobby and when the other man turned fastened his lips over Bobby's, already the numbness was falling away. The two of them stumbled toward the bedroom together, shedding clothes on the way easily. They knew each other like no one else but even then, there seemed to be a phantom in the room, a presence that would never truly be with them again.

"Please," Timothy gasped as Bobby slid smoothly inside of him after preparation, his own eyes sliding shut as his lover began to move swiftly. "Oh please," He pleaded like he was losing it, hands grasping tightly.

Bobby chuckled into his throat, "So damn polite," He thrust harder, burying his face in Timothy's neck. "That's my Timothy." It felt wrong to be saying it, and a voice echoed through both of them. _Our Timothy._ He would never truly be gone, not really.

"Not gonna…" Timothy found it hard to speak now everything was sharper. Everything hurt now and there was friction, pain, and loss. It was beautiful, intense, and pleasurable because it had been so long. Happiness and sadness overflowed within him, consuming him until he opened his eyes all he could see was Bobby and soft kind eyes.

"Don't worry, me either," Bobby began stroking his length softly at first then harder until he elicited an almost pained moan from Timothy who then released between their bodies. He thrust slower, feeling the burn softly at first until it rose up within him and he too came with a soft groan leaning down to rest his body on Timothy's not caring about the mess.

Timothy let out another choked sound, resting his hand on his eyes keeping the tears from falling. It had been wonderful and terrible all at the same time. Warrick was _gone._ There was nothing anyone could do about it, nothing anyone could do about the team either. This was his life and Bobby was now all he had, "I can't leave again." He murmured when Bobby gathered him close. "I can't leave you alone."

"Oh sweetheart," Bobby breathed against his neck. He didn't care for being macho himself, didn't care if anyone had seen him almost breakdown at Warrick's funeral but he knew that Timothy always had to try. He knew that Tony would mock Timothy relentlessly if he were ever to see him cry but Bobby had been waiting for this, waiting for him to realize it. It figured it wouldn't happen until they'd gotten home, until he'd come back home to see that Warrick would never visit again.

"I know it doesn't seem like it's gonna be okay, but it will be. We're resilient and Warrick made sure we were set for life. He left us _everything._" Bobby murmured into his ear, kissing him softly on the lips the taste of salt sharp on his tongue. "Everything will be fine. I promise."

Timothy wiped his eyes quickly having not cried all that much, "I never got it. Why he wanted me in the first place…or you, why you wanted me." He cleared his throat.

"I never got why either of you wanted me either, but I think that's the beauty of it," Bobby got up and grabbed a towel, cleaning them both up and curling back up in the sheets with him, "Now…what do we do?"

Thinking for a moment Timothy nodded resolutely, "I'm going to stay here. I'm not leaving again and I don't care what anyone has to say about it, we will handle this and I will volunteer my help with the investigation. I've got some good connections who would be willing to help once I explain the situation to them," He told Bobby firmly.

Bobby smiled, kissing him softly on the lips. "I love you."

"I love you too, and that's why I refuse to leave," Timothy returned the kiss sighing softly. "How do you feel?"

Shrugging Bobby considered it, "Like someone put me back together again."

"Me too. Thank you," Timothy replied.

"And thank you Warrick," Bobby murmured to the sky outside, feeling like the man they'd cherished so much had something to do with this. And without fail, the two of them wouldn't stop until they figured out who had killed him, even if it brought their own lives to forfeit.


End file.
